


Who Is This Kid, and Why, Oh Why Does He Keep Going Missing?

by StopIWantToTalkAboutCheese



Series: MISSING: Tales From the Life of a Private Investigator [6]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan, The Kane Chronicles - Rick Riordan
Genre: "stealth" who am i kidding it aint stealth at all, Again, Crack Treated Seriously, M/M, POV Outsider, The Mist - Freeform, This is fanfiction, brief reference to the throne of fire, but hey, do the timelines line up? probably not, godly interference with rational human thought, i guess ella and frank show up too but theyre really only cameos, i think this is officially my 'quarantine coping series'. wild., sorry this took so long, the pi series continues, this is now a stealth crossover fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:55:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28274946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StopIWantToTalkAboutCheese/pseuds/StopIWantToTalkAboutCheese
Summary: If somebody were to stop Luka on the street and ask him what the worst part of his job was, he would say, without hesitation: Percy. Motherflipping. Jackson. Only he wouldn’t sayflipping.Percy Jackson had been a pain in Luka’s neck ever since he’d blown up that bus, all those years ago.He. Was.Everywhere.Blowing up national monuments. Blowing up schools. Blowing up volcanoes.Blowing upbuses,especially ones thatLuka happened to be riding.Seriously, Luka wasthis closeto just giving up.But a paycheck was a paycheck, and so Luka was on the case.__Mortal PI v. the Percy/Phineas showdown. Go!
Series: MISSING: Tales From the Life of a Private Investigator [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1911502
Comments: 12
Kudos: 73





	Who Is This Kid, and Why, Oh Why Does He Keep Going Missing?

**Author's Note:**

> hello hello hello how is everybody doing on this fine day? I had to reread SoN to write this, which is why it took so long.
> 
> Fun fact: This was originally going to be titled "When Buying Coffee Saves Your Job". This adds nothing to the story. I just wanted to say that. Enjoy! :)

If somebody were to stop Luka on the street and ask him what the worst part of his job was, he would say, without hesitation: Percy. Motherflipping. Jackson. Only he wouldn’t say _flipping._

Percy Jackson had been a pain in Luka’s neck ever since he’d blown up that bus, all those years ago. 

He. Was. _Everywhere._

Blowing up national monuments. Blowing up schools. Blowing up volcanoes.

Blowing up _buses,_ especially ones that _Luka happened to be riding._

Seriously, Luka was _this close_ to just giving up.

But a paycheck was a paycheck, and so Luka was on the case.

But seriously, you’d think that one Missing Persons case was enough for the kid. Nope! According to schools all over the city, Jackson had vanished from class no less than _seventeen times a month_ , on average, always coming back in a window of anywhere between two hours and two weeks. And he wasn’t going home, either– God only knew where the kid was going.

And apparently, his own mother didn’t know either, which was why Luka was even here in the first place, in a tiny coffee shop in Portland, Oregon.

It had been eight long months.

Eight months of tracking down one kid.

Eight months of anxious phone calls from his mother.

Eight months of _nothing._

Luka might not like the kid, but he wasn’t heartless. Vanishing for a week or two seemed to be par for the course for Jackson. But vanishing for _eight months?_ And when his mother was so clearly worried about him? Something was obviously wrong.

It didn’t mean he wasn’t very, _very_ annoyed.

It didn’t help that the café he was taking a break in was seriously drafty, which was really only making his mood worse. He was pretty sure the air conditioning was still on. What kind of monsters did that in such weather?

Before he could think about it any more, there was a flurry of movement outside the café. Luka glanced out and nearly spit out his coffee.

No way.

It couldn’t be.

But it was.

PERCY. JACKSON.

“You!” Luka blurted out, and immediately regretted it. The kid didn’t look like he’d heard him, but Luka didn’t want to attract unnecessary attention.

Besides, the kid looked busy.

As Luka watched, Jackson took out two clay flasks and set them in the middle of the table.

On the opposite end of the table was an old man, who did not look happy to be there. 

Just what was going on here?

Luka needed to get to the kid. He needed to get to the kid right now, but something was keeping him in his seat. Something was calming him, soothing his nerves. Luka could wait a little while longer. Just to see what the kid was up to. Just to see what was going on.

Circling the table was what looked like a gang of overeager seagulls, but– ugh, Luka got a headache just looking at them. Maybe the sun was reflecting weirdly on their feathers?

Trying to distract himself. Luka squinted at the flasks. The way Jackson was holding them, as if it were something precious… 

…Could it be alcohol?

It looked like it might be alcohol. Or a drug deal. Either way, he ought to do something.

Alcohol was definitely illegal. Portland was a liberal place, but it wasn’t _that_ liberal. Luka knew he needed to put a stop to this. But he didn’t move.

The old man picked up one flask. Jackson picked up the other.

And then, before Luka even knew what was happening, they both drank.

_Oh, my God, did I just witness a seventeen year old child challenge a homeless man to a drinking contest?_

Jackson doubled over, hacking and gagging, but that was nothing compared to the old man.

The elderly, feeble-looking, homeless man had drunk his flask, and then, before Luka’s very eyes, had _slumped over and wasn’t moving._ The weed whacker beside him clattered to the ground.

_Oh, my God, did I just witness a seventeen year old child KILL a homeless man in a drinking contest?_

Jackson scrambled up from the table. He looked like he wanted to run.

Hmm.

That was a problem. 

That was it. Luka had had enough.

This kid was _missing._ His mother was worried sick. And now, here he was, _underage,_ drinking maybe-alcohol and attacking homeless men _in the middle of a coffee shop?_

Why was nobody doing anything about this?

Luka stood, intending to march over there, give the kid a piece of his mind, and haul him back to New York, consequences be damned. It wasn’t kidnapping if the kid’s mother was paying him, right?

And that was when his eye caught on the girl sitting next to Jackson.

Luka froze. 

His brain spluttered, refusing to compute what he was seeing.

There was a girl. Sitting next to Jackson. That was about all Luka’s brain could handle.

But then he got to the girl’s face.

There was no way.

There was just no way.

It was the Hazel Levesque-lookalike.

The one he had seen in a McDonalds only a few months earlier. 

The one who _literally looked like a dead person._

_What are the odds?_

No, seriously– _what were the odds?_

Seeing the same girl twice, in one year? Or seeing two different girls, who both somehow seemed to look _exactly like Hazel Levesque?_

It was insane. Completely insane.

And with _Percy Jackson,_ the same kid who had evaded him for _months?_

Something was going on, that much Luka was sure of. Something really, really weird.

Or maybe it was just a stupid coincidence. Maybe it was just his brain trying to find a pattern when there wasn’t one. 

Still… 

No. No, it was just a coincidence, and Luka was being stupid. He needed to refocus, that was all.

Ridiculously, though, Luka still couldn’t help but think: _if I had a nickel for every time I thought I saw Hazel Levesque in a fast food restaurant…_

He was just freaked out by the seagull thing and the old man passing out _(...or dying?)_ thing, that was all. Seeing ghosts. Again. He should really stop with the whole “looking at old case files” thing. It was interesting, but not at the cost of his sanity. 

Besides, Jackson was messing with the… had the old man left the table? How had Luka missed that?– well, anyway, Jackson was messing with the old man’s robes. _Oh, god. Please don’t be robbing a senior citizen, Jackson. Please._

Aaand now the kid was doing something with… a chicken? A hawk? What the hell _was_ that thing?

There were two others with him, an Asian boy and the creepy Hazel Levesque-lookalike, and they both seemed to be… talking. To the bird.

Actually, that was a really, really _big_ bird.

Part of Luka just wanted to run away screaming, and generally get as far away as he could from the confusing whatever-the-hell-that-was. The other, more professional, part of him wanted to grab Jackson and _then_ run away screaming, and generally get as far away as he could from the confusing whatever-the-hell-that-was.

So Luka already knew that he wanted no part in whatever this was– whether the Jackson kid was a cultist, an addict, or just _way_ too into ornithology– but in the end of the day, that wasn’t really his business.

Sighing, he rallied himself to the cause again, stood, and started walking towards Jackson. 

And at that moment, Jackson grabbed the bird’s arm, did an about face, and vanished into the crowds.

Wait.

Grabbed the bird’s _arm?_

Yeah, Luka was done for the day.

* * *

**TWO DAYS LATER…**

Eight months.

Eight. Flipping. Months.

That was how long Luka had spent chasing a kid who, apparently, was _just fine._

This was just his luck.

“Thank you for being so helpful,” the woman on the phone was saying, but Luka was afraid to reply lest he just start screaming and never stop.

“I’m just so glad my son is safe,” the woman went on, and Luka snapped himself out of it.

“No problem, Mrs. Blowfish,” he said weakly.

Mrs. Blowfish sighed wearily. “Blo _fis,”_ she said.

_Oops._

“Gotcha,” Luka said. “Sorry.” He had known that. He just hadn’t slept well lately, and the news had been weird that morning, so he was a little distracted. There had been crazy earthquakes all over the country, and a double sunrise over Brooklyn, which was… weird. Luka had heard rumors that it was just a comet, but still… weird.

“I’ll call you back with the payment details,” Mrs. Blofis said.

“Got it,” Luka said. “Uh… I’m glad Percy’s all right.”

She hung up.

Luka sighed. He almost laid his forehead on the payphone wall, but thought better of it at the last second. Gross.

He was tired, he was stressed, and he was frustrated. Eight months for _nothing._ Sure, he was glad the kid was all right, but– Alaska? Really?

And, worst of all, Jackson had been _right in Luka’s clutches._ Why had he let the kid go? Why had Luka felt _compelled_ to let the kid go? It was nuts. It went completely against his job. He had just sat there, watching the kid, and had done _nothing._ It was weird, looking back on it. The total… apathy. He had been watching, totally passively, and hadn’t even _tried_ to get to Jackson.

It was freaky. He didn’t like it at all.

He needed to talk to someone. He needed to talk to _anyone_.

Maybe he could take a page out of the little delinquent’s book. Luka had quarters, he had a payphone, and he already knew who he wanted to call. Why the hell not?

So Luka punched in the numbers and waited.

Anthony picked up on the seventh ring.

“Yeah?”

Immediately, Luka felt all the worries of the day wash away. He smiled, and felt lighter just hearing his boyfriend’s voice. “Hey, babe, you still in Brooklyn?”

There was a rustling noise.

“Anthony?”

“Can you call me back later?” There was a note of stress in Anthony’s voice– maybe even a little panic. 

Concern bubbled up in Luka’s chest. “Are you okay?”

“Oh yeah, yeah, fine. Nothing weird at all happening here!”

Well, that wasn’t suspicious at all.

“Are you sure?”

“Uh… I’m kinda busy right now.” There was a squelching noise, and Anthony shouted something in– what was _that_ language?– “Can’t really talk. It’s been a weird day.”

“Bet it’s not as weird as mine was a few days back,” Luka said.

“Um,” Anthony said, and there was another strange noise in the background. (Was it Luka’s imagination, or was somebody on the other end yelling about penguins?)

“Are _sure_ you okay?”

“Fine!” Anthony said. “Totally fine. Hey, so, just in case the sun goes out, just so you know, I love you.”

“...In case the _what_ goes out?”

Dial tone.

…What was it with people _hanging up on him_ all the time?

Luka sighed heavily.

Well, it was time to leave Jackson’s case behind, anyway. He had a flight back to New York to catch. And he was _so done_ with scary McDonalds children and delinquents running amok and cryptic-yet-terrifying messages from his boyfriend.

Luka gathered up his things, hung up the phone, and started walking.

He had a taxi to find, and coffee to drink, and cases to take. 

Jackson would just have to sort himself out, and hopefully not blow anything else up in the process.

(Months later, when a sinkhole opened up in Rome and it was reported that Percy Jackson fell in, it was the closest Luka ever came to believing in karma, because _by god,_ this boy had obviously made somebody very, VERY angry in a past life. He hoped the kid was all right, the article had been weird about mentioning any survivors. In fact, it had been described as some kind of bottomless pit…? 

Anyway.

Poor kid.)

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas! Or, if you don't celebrate, happy New Years! Hopefully 2021 will be better for the world in general.
> 
> Tell me what you think in the comments!
> 
> :)


End file.
